Dog steps forward, his voice calm but clear. "We were sent by the mage in Redingham to investigate why trade stopped. But we've learned something important - Redingham never received your wagons. And you never received payment." Garrett's expression shifts. His jaw tightens. "Someone's been stealing from both sides," Dog continues. "The wagons left here. They never arrived there. We need to know everything you can tell us about the shipments." Garrett is silent for a long moment. Then he stands, moving to a shelf and pulling down a thick ledger. He sets it on the desk with a heavy thud. "Three wagons per week. For a month." He opens the ledger, pages filled with careful entries. "Grain, salted fish, wool, vegetables. Everything documented. Everything paid for by Redingham's merchants... or so they told us." His finger traces down the columns. "I hired guards myself. Men I've worked with for years. Reliable. Armed. Two guards per wagon, sometimes three." He looks up. "With the last shipment, six guards total. None of them came back." He closes the ledger. "I sent a rider north four days ago to find out what happened. He hasn't returned either." Garrett's voice is steady, but you can hear the anger beneath it. "The main road's been safe for decades. This isn't random bandits. This is organized." He looks at each of you. "Someone knew the schedules. Knew the routes. Knew exactly when to strike." He pauses. "And they're good enough that not a single person escaped to warn us." 🎯 What's next? 1. Ask about the schedules - Who knew when the wagons would leave? 2. Ask about his rider - The one who went to investigate four days ago. 3. Other → Your call.

You thank the woman and make your way toward the town square. The streets are quiet but no longer empty. A few residents move about now, tending gardens, carrying water, going about morning routines. They watch you pass with cautious curiosity but don't approach. The warehouse is easy to spot. Large, two stories, blue shutters freshly painted. Double doors at the front, currently closed. A smaller side entrance stands slightly ajar. You approach and knock on the frame of the open door. "Come in," a voice calls from inside. - Inside the Warehouse The interior is well-organized. Shelves line the walls, mostly empty now. A few barrels and crates sit stacked in corners. The space feels like it should be full but isn't. At a desk near the back sits a man in his fifties, gray-streaked beard, weathered hands sorting through ledgers. He looks up as you enter, his expression wary but not unwelcoming. "Help you?" he asks, setting down his quill. Before you can answer, his eyes catch on your travel-worn appearance, the weapons at your sides. "You're not from here." Not a question. He leans back in his chair. "Let me guess. Redingham sent you?" His tone is neutral. Waiting. 🎯 How do you approach this? 1. Be direct - Tell him exactly why you're here and what you've learned. 2. Show him your marks - See if he recognizes them or knows anything about the Chosen. 3. Ask about the guards he hired - Start with specifics. 4. Other → Your call.

"We'll go to the castle now," you tell Elara. "The sooner help reaches Thornhaven, the better." She nods approvingly. "Good. Return here once you've delivered the letter." - Toward the Castle You leave the Scholar's Quarter and make your way through the city streets. The castle dominates the skyline, rising like a mountain of stone from the heart of Readingham. Its walls are thick as houses, its four great bastions crowned with the yellow and green banners. As you approach, the crowds thin. This is the administrative heart of the city, where soldiers patrol and officials conduct the business of governance. The main gate to the castle grounds stands open, flanked by guards in polished armor bearing the city's colors. They're more attentive than the city gate guards, eyes tracking your approach. One steps forward, spear held across his chest. "State your business." You hold up the sealed letter, showing Elara's mark on the wax. "Message for the Guard Captain. From Elara the Mage. Urgent." The guard's expression shifts slightly at Elara's name. He gestures to his companion, who nods and steps aside. "Follow me." - The Courtyard Inside the castle walls, the courtyard bustles with activity. Soldiers drill in formation. Blacksmiths work at outdoor forges. Messengers hurry between buildings. The clang of steel and the shouts of sergeants fill the air. Your escort leads you across the courtyard toward a stone building with narrow windows and a heavy oak door. "Wait here." He disappears inside. Minutes pass. You stand in the shadow of the castle's inner wall, watching the organized chaos around you. Then the door opens. A man emerges, tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps fifty years old, with close-cropped gray hair and a scar running from his temple to his jaw. He wears well-maintained chainmail under a tabard bearing Readingham's colors. The Guard Captain. His eyes sweep over your group, taking in your weapons, your travel-stained clothes, the marks on your forearms.